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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29415411">Morning Glory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/foramomentonly/pseuds/foramomentonly'>foramomentonly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Breathplay, Come play, D/s elements, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malex, Sort Of, i think, not really but just in case</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:48:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29415411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/foramomentonly/pseuds/foramomentonly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm not sure what this is, but I woke up with this scene in my head and I haven't written productively in so long; it felt good to finish something.</p><p>Loosely based on these lines from a poem I saw on Tumblr, of fucking course lol. Words by Buddy Wakefield:</p><p>“I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.”</p><p>Make love to me<br/>like you know I am better<br/>than the worst thing I ever did.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Guerin/Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Morning Glory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had a little trouble with the tags. Please let me know if you have an additional tag suggestion.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alex has never understood morning sex. He wakes up most days with a sour mouth, the back of his neck damp with sweat and a film on his skin he can practically see if he didn't shower the night before. None of this has ever made him feel particularly </span>
  <em>
    <span>sexy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But when it's Michael he's waking up to, golden curls especially soft and ruffled, warm body blazing, hovering over Alex like the afternoon sun, he can see the appeal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex whines softly as Michael lifts Alex's hips into his lap, running a soothing palm down the center of his bare chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shh, baby," he breathes. "I got you. I got what you need."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex loves to see Michael like this, his need to be of service translating into an easy confidence in the bedroom. Here, in this space, Michael has always known exactly what Alex wants, what he craves, and it's the simplest and most natural thing in the world to give Alex every last bit of it, of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Alex whimpers, legs spread wide over Michael's lap and hips churning needily. Michael had spent what felt like hours opening him up, teasing Alex with flicks of his tongue, the gentle press of his fingertips always only just missing where Alex wanted it most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael relents and lines himself up, sliding smooth and unbroken into Alex with a groan, his mouth dropping open as he presses deep as he can go and briefly grinds his hips in slow, tight circles. Alex tosses his head back and reaches his arms up, gripping the cold, iron bars of his headboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So beautiful, baby," Michael pants as he starts a slow, steady pace, pulling back until only the tip of his swollen cock is still inside and thrusting forward again, his hips slapping gently against Alex's ass with every snap. He stares down at Alex, honey eyes gone dark and hazy, but occasionally he drops his gaze, watching hungrily as his own cock glides in and out of Alex's wet, pink hole. "You're so good, Alex. Take it so well."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex lets the warm praise cover him like a blanket, wishes he could wear it around his shoulders every day like a cape. He's failed Michael in so many ways, handed him endless disappointments and broken wishes, walked away more times than he can count. He gives his body freely, clings to the pleasure it brings them both, because it often feels like the only thing he's never fucked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael's pace is still agonizingly slow, his cock a gentle glide inside of Alex, and suddenly it's not enough. It's too reverent, too careful; Michael holds his hips too sweetly in his palms like he was a tender thing. Alex growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, Michael," he groans, pumping his hips, and Michael's grip tightens. "Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, fuck me like you hate me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn't what he meant to say, but Alex feels tears stream down his temples and he realizes he meant it. Michael stills, and Alex shuts his eyes tight, opens them again to Michael's face inches from his own, Michael's calloused thumb brushing wetness from his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> you," he breathes, his wide eyes melting like butter. Alex takes a wet, trembling breath, calmed by Michael's hand cupping his cheek and by the realization that Michael is still inside him, filling him up. "I love you, baby," Michael whispers, sliding his hands down to grip the backs of Alex's thighs, guiding him to fold his legs up against his chest, bracketing Michael's torso. "Want me to show you how much?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nods wordlessly and Michael rises up, resting one hand on Alex's bent knee, the other wrapping firm around his dripping cock. Alex groans and grips harder on the headboard when his sweaty palms slip, arching his back. With his lower body basically bent in half Michael's cock is snug inside him, pressed against his swollen prostate. Michael begins to roll his hips, body moving above Alex like a cresting wave, and he focuses his thrusts to brush Alex's most sensitive spot every time, rhythmic and relentless, overwhelming when his hand around Alex's dick finally tightens and begins to work him over in time with the movement of Michael's hips and the spearing of his cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex keens, squeezing his muscle tight around Michael as his hips stutter and his groans fill the room. Michael's hand on his knee slips and he steadies himself on Alex's shoulder, liquid fire in his eyes as he holds Alex's gaze and slips his fingers low around Alex's neck; he can breath freely, but Michael's weight pressing him down grounds him, heavy and claiming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All mine," Michael says, as sweet and steady and rapturous as if he were caressing Alex's cheek instead of pounding his hole, and Alex releases a broken moan and comes suddenly over Michael's hand as if in answer to an unspoken command.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael works him through it, and when Alex begins to whine, oversensitive and hungry for completion, Michael pulls out and fucks his cock into the tight circle of his own hand, sticky with Alex's release, and comes all over Alex's hole with a low groan. Alex feels the mess Michael's made dripping down his ass, feels filthy with him, but it's not enough; he wishes Michael had come inside him, had filled him up and watched him squeeze his muscle tight to keep it inside, let him leak all over the sheets when he failed. But Michael always knows when Alex is wanting; he pulls back to run two fingers through his own mess, gathering what he can before pushing back into Alex's hole, raw and stinging from the fuck he'd begged for. Alex moans softly and Michael shushes him, rubbing gently at his sensitive, overused prostate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There you go, baby," Michael coos, and Alex rolls his hips weakly as his cock twitches, one last dribble of liquid leaking out. Michael slides his fingers out and climbs up Alex's body, lowering himself between Alex's legs and brushing Alex's cheekbone with his clean hand. He drops a light kiss to Alex's lips, then his forehead, nose, each eyelid. Alex sighs, body liquid under Michael's bulk. When he opens his eyes after Michael's kisses, Michael is gazing down at him, radiating affectionate concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That got intense," Michael says. "How do you feel?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>" 'm good," Alex murmurs, running a hand down Michael's back to squeeze at his waist. "I guess I really needed that. So, uh, breakfast?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a half-assed attempt at a brush off, and Michael doesn't even acknowledge it. He cups Alex's head, fingers weaving into his hair, and holds him firm and reassuring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I choose you, Alex," he says. "Every day I wake up in this bed and I choose another day with you. And it's not because of our shared trauma or some fucked up dependence I can't shake. We're past all that. Aren't we?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex opens his mouth to answer and discovers there's a wet lump in his throat that turns his words into a trembling gasp for breath. This is all new, all uncharted terrain; Michael in his bed in the morning, rolling over and reaching lazily for him or pulling on a pair of Alex's sweats to make coffee. Alex and Michael as a happy ending, not a hopeless tragedy, a grave mistake. Alex realizes he's been waiting; waiting to fuck it up, waiting to hear it was all a lie, waiting for Michael to wake up and walk out and never come back, never come home. Michael is the one waiting now, though, brushing the sweaty strands of hair off Alex's forehead before returning his steady grip to the back of Alex's neck. The pressure is grounding, and Alex breathes out slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No more keeping score," he breathes, and finally is able to raise his eyes and meet Michael's warm gaze, bringing his hand up to tangle in Michael's riotous curls. "I choose you, too. I love you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good,” he says. “I love you, too. And the answer is yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex tilts his head in Michael’s grip, looks up at him in confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes to breakfast,” Michael laughs, and with one final squeeze to Alex’s neck he rolls off of him and sits up, tousles his hair and begins the search for his discarded clothes. Alex pushes himself up slowly, feels every inch the sticky, sweaty, unwashed mess he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh,” he groans. “Fucking morning sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael tsks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love it,” he chides, pulling on a pair of shorts and ambling into the bathroom. Alex knows when he gets to the en suite he’ll find a fresh towel laid out for him and his custom, drop in tub will be filled with warm, steaming water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He watches Michael’s naked back disappear through the door and breathes, “I love it.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
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